Ode: To a Construction Worker

You, too, are an artist. you are a creator; yet here I envy you – you can feel the physicality of your tangible creation, you can move the rude stone with a great heave and feel the sinews of your knees, shoulders, muscles braced against the load, adding the lung-deep roar of encouragement to spur sheer effort on; or kick the uncompromising steel if it angers you, knowing that it is not delicate, will not buckle. Even before starting, you are fairly sure what your creation will look like, you can work towards that goal; you are one of many working towards that goal; even if you don’t know how your task fits in with the finished product, you have your orders, clear from a supervisor or director, one job at a time, an hour’s work a day’s work, a week’s work, the deadlines you must meet quicken your body even when your spirit is slow and unwilling. Your work is paid for by the hour; others have furnished the concrete, the cement that binds your work together, the metal that provides support and framework firm for the structure and your own scaffolding; they have bought wood and entrusted it to your skill, it will add texture, rich colour, earth, solidity. I would like to be a construction worker. I want to work alongside you and talk about our creation as we create.

 

< Prev		Next >